Conning Cornelius
by senawario
Summary: One responsible adult does not like what is happening after Harry's 4th year. Though still on the run from the law, he figures out a way to help Harry, and more.


**Conning Cornelius**

 **Summary** : One responsible adult does not like what is happening after Harry's 4th year. Though still on the run from the law, he figures out a way to help Harry, and more.

 **Thank you** : to all who reviewed my previous works. In response to some very valid points brought up in reviews, I have updated my profile to describe some limitations in my writing, which are likely to continue for some time.

 **Legal Disclaimer** : anything you recognise in this story belongs to someone else, most likely to JK Rowling and/or her business partners. Any characters you _don't_ recognise are mine. The specific plot in this fic may be mine; I say "may be" because fanfiction is vast, and one can never be sure there isn't a very similar one elsewhere. I'm not getting anything out of writing this.

 **Canon related disclaimers** : it's been _years_ since I read canon, and I can't be bothered to dig out and read the dead-tree versions I have in some bookshelf somewhere. As such, there may well be canon inaccuracies. Worse, they may be coloured by years of reading fan fiction!

* * *

 **12, Grimmauld Place; early-July 1995**

The man had been brooding for several days now. He did not like the restrictions placed on him, but even more, he did not like what was being done to Harry. Something needed to be done, but he couldn't do it alone.

His old friend would certainly help him, but he was away. The old man's orders again, of course, but whatever the reason, he was not available.

The rest of the group here was a bunch of Dumbledore sycophants anyway, and, far from helping him, they would probably go running to him as soon as he said anything.

Well, not _all_ of them. There was one person who may be willing to help, and in fact be far more useful. Hmm... Something to think about, and someone to watch carefully over the next few days.

His chance would come. Dumbledore was being called away to an ICW meeting - rumour had it he was going to be kicked out, but they would do it formally, so he had to go. He'd be out for a good couple of days.

* * *

 **12, Grimmauld Place; mid-July 1995; late evening**

The two met quietly, in a room that could only be accessed via the library, a room which only one of them could open the door to.

An uninformed onlooker may have come away with the wrong idea; a man in his mid-thirties and a girl who was young enough to be his daughter, glancing furtively about and walking into a dark room, whispering to each other.

But one look at their sombre faces would have belied that instantly.

The man closed the door, and turned to face the young girl, who was just making herself comfortable on one of the chairs in the room.

"I need help with something, and there's no one else I can go to with this."

"It's about Harry, right?"

"Yes. Let me be frank. I am extremely annoyed with Dumbledore, and I cannot simply obey what he says without thinking about things from Harry's point of view. He should not be alone at a time like this, period. I know I screwed up big-time back in 1981, but never again."

"You'd like to get him out. Well, count me in; so would I. I'd love to get him out too, instead of staying in that hell hole, being abused and shouted at by his uncle."

Sirius beamed at her. She was already on the same page, saving him a good thirty minutes or more that would have otherwise been spent trying to convince her of the need to free Harry.

"Yes, well, being a prisoner in my own house is not agreeing with me either, and that's what he's got over me."

"And the Weasley's will always do what he asks anyway", grumbled Hermione.

"So... the reason I am asking you... well there are three reasons", said Sirius. "First, you're a muggle-born, and since he's living in the muggle world, you'd know better than anyone else in this benighted house what avenues we have in that world."

She nodded for him to continue.

"Second, you appear to have the least amount of _blind_ regard for Dumbledore's diktats."

She smiled at the somewhat harsh word. While Dumbledore would always put a kindly veneer on all his orders, it was clear that he would brook no disobedience.

"And third, you... well correct me if I'm wrong but are you, you know...", Sirius trailed off, not wanting to embarrass the young girl.

Hermione blushed lightly. "Yes. But he has no clue, so let's leave it at that for now", she said, with a hint of steel in her voice.

Sirius pouted a bit. "Not even a little teasing when no one else is around?"

Grinning at the glare, he continued. "Well, we know his address. Would your parents be willing to help us?"

"Of course they would; I've already primed them that this might happen. Well I did not know about Grimmauld, but just being told not to contact him during the holidays got my dander up."

"Did you tell them about Cedric?"

Hermione shuffled her feet. "I wasn't going to, but they got it out of me in the end. Mum was always good at that."

"So we need to discuss how they can help, and how we should contact them. I guess they're not on the floo network are they?"

"No, but they're on a much better 'network'", smiled Hermione. Resisting the impulse to explain, she continued. "I suggest the best way is for us to simply drive over to Surrey, tell him to pack, and take him home."

"Us?"

"Mum, dad, me, and our dog", she grinned.

Sirius laughed. "Thank you! You make it sound so easy. So what's this 'much better network' your parents are on and how do we use it?"

* * *

Early the next morning, even before breakfast, found the two up in Buckbeak's room in the attic. There was a skylight, which had been magically enlarged for Buckbeak to take an occasional fly to stretch his wings (with liberal applications of an invisibility charm). Even better, there was a ledge outside that could comfortably seat two people.

Sitting on this, Hermione pulled out her Motorola 5200 and turned it on - she had to keep it off because there was no electricity at Grimmauld, so she couldn't charge it - waited a few seconds for the signal to lock, and hit a couple of buttons.

The phone was picked up almost instantly.

"Honey, it's so good to hear your voice! When are you coming back home?" said her mother. It was clear that the Grangers did not like the way her daughter had effectively been 'kidnapped', in a manner of speaking anyway, without being able to spend all the holidays with her parents.

"Mum, I'm going to make a phone call to you in another 30 minutes. At that point, be prepared to tell me something that makes it imperative that I come home _immediately_. Have dad wait in the parking lot at Camden Town station, and I'll be there with a friend within another 30 minutes."

Her mother was instantly suspicious - clearly something was wrong (as if a student dying at the end of a competition and a dark lord rising from the dead was not enough), but she would not look a gift horse in the mouth. Her daughter was coming home, and that was enough for her right now. Questions could wait.

* * *

Hermione wiped her mouth carefully with the napkin, pushed her chair back, and - to no one in particular - announced, "I'd better see how my parents are".

"But, dear, they are not on the floo network", said Mrs Weasley.

Hermione smiled at her, and pulled out her phone. While the rest of the group stared at her in shock, she pushed two buttons and waited for her mother to pick up. (If Remus had been around, of course, he would not have been surprised.)

The wizards and witches in Grimmauld could only hear her side of the conversation clearly, the other end of the conversation was somewhat tinny and definitely not clear. What _was_ clear was that she was, indeed, talking to her mother. The voice they could hear was definitely female, and definitely agitated about something.

As Hermione spoke, her face became more and more troubled. Eventually she hung up (though the wizards did not know that phrase anyway), and turned to Sirius.

"Sirius, I need to go home urgently. Something has happened," - turning to the others - "no it is nothing to do with the wizarding world, or death eaters; it's something in my family," - then turning back to Sirius, "would a dog be able to accompany me there?"

"Of course, Hermione", said Sirius, with an equally sombre expression. "I hope whatever it is, works out, but how will we get there?"

"Dad will be waiting in the station parking lot."

"Let's go", said Sirius.

" **Sirius Black, you will not be going ANYWHERE, and neither will you, young lady!** Predictably, Molly Weasley was howling like a banshee.

Hermione turned to her with a sweet expression. "Are you trying to tell me, Mrs Weasley, that I should disobey a direct order from my own mother?"

"Dear, your mother is a mugg-"

Hermione's expression turned cold. "Stop right there, Mrs Weasley. Your family may be quite happy to cut off relations with family just because they were born squibs, but do not assume muggleborn witches and wizards are so willing to do that. I suggest you rethink what you were about to say."

(Many years later, Ron would confess, in his best man speech at Harry and Hermione's wedding, that this was the moment he decided not to pursue Hermione as a romantic interest!)

Right here and now, however, he decided to support his friend. "Mum - you want us to listen to you, so Hermione must listen to her mum. She needs to do what she has been told to do."

Mrs Weasley decided to put her foot in her mouth. "But Ronald, we have only her word fo-"

"Are you now suggesting I am _lying_ , Mrs Weasley?"

Molly Weasley had the grace to look sheepish, and did not say anything to her. Instead, she turned on Sirius.

"Albus has told you very clearly that you are not to go out, Sirius", she said.

"Well, since we're speaking of mothers, Molly, feel free to complain to mine about my behaviour. Be sure to tell her it is **Dumbledore** I am disobeying, otherwise you might even end up bonding with her over vilifying me!" he chortled.

Then Sirius transformed, and he and Hermione walked out.

* * *

It took them barely fifteen minutes to walk to Camden Town station, and get into Dr Granger's rather large Vauxhall Monterey. While walking, they had discussed how best to do this.

Richard Granger had looked askance at the dog, and quietly let the rear door open for it to jump in and settle down. Fortunately this car was easy to vacuum.

"Dad, can we pick up Harry from his so-called home in Surrey first?" asked Hermione, once they were out of the parking lot.

"Hampstead is on the way, honey, let's go home, drop your dog there, pick up your mum, who is waiting for you."

"Dad the dog is important. But yes we can pick up mum."

"Will he have a lot of luggage?"

"Very unlikely, dad. I'm sure we have enough room for five passengers and a trunk."

Richard shot her a puzzled look. "You mean four passengers, a dog, and a trunk, don't you?"

Before Hermione could respond, the dog barked, sounding just like he'd agreed. Richard decided not to dwell on this.

* * *

Hermione did not waste any time going in to the house. She called her mum from her cell phone and told her to lock up and wait at the gate, so they could just turn around and go. This was a bit worrying for Richard, but Kate would soon be in the car, and she would figure out what was going on.

Once they were on their way to Surrey - it would take almost an hour - he let Kate take over the questioning.

The long and short of it was that the boy who had just a few days ago seen a friend be murdered in front of him, had been left alone. The boy's godfather was an escapee from prison - at least officially, because only a few people knew he was really innocent - and could not do much except to rant and rave at the school's headmaster, who was enforcing this policy of isolating the poor boy.

"So this godfather cannot go out?"

"Well you've heard of Sirius Black, about two years ago?"

"Yes, are you saying Black is Harry's godfather?"

"Yes."

"Well it should be safe enough in the muggle world. No one remembers one poster from two years ago."

The dog looked around. They were - very conveniently - at a traffic light, _and_ there weren't any other vehicles close enough to see inside the car.

"Well, that's a relief", he said as he transformed. "I also think the photograph they had did not do justice to my youthful good looks", he grinned.

Kate fainted. Richard would have, too, but somehow found the strength to remember they were in a car, stopped at a red light.

* * *

By the time they had reached Little Whinging, both the adults had recovered, and even had a bit of a laugh at Sirius's sense of humour, timing, and ego.

They stopped opposite Harry's aunt's house (Hermione refused to call it "Harry's House"), and they all walked in.

Hermione had called ahead. His uncle was at work, Dudley was out somewhere, and, by sheer luck, his aunt was in the bathroom, so Harry had picked up. They finished their conversation before she came out, and he told her it was a wrong number. It was then the work of a few minutes for him to be packed and ready, once his aunt was safely back in the kitchen.

When the Grangers and Sirius entered, he was already downstairs, sitting on his trunk just inside the door. He grinned when he saw Hermione, and gave her a big hug, whispering a heartfelt "thank you" into her bushy hair.

"It's not me you have to thank, or at least not only me", said Hermione. "Sirius was a big part of it on the magical side, and mum and dad of course on this side".

"Hey kid", said Sirius, walking in, giving his godson a hug. "Where's that miserable woman?"

"Let's go, Sirius, don't waste time on them", said Hermione.

"I doubt if they will even realise you're gone, or wonder _how_ or _where_ you went", said Sirius. "Dumbledore surely will find out in a few days and come running here!"

Then he grinned viciously. "You know what, I have a better idea."

He conjured a backpack for Harry, and put all his stuff in it. He then made duplicates of some of the less valuable items, and put them in the battered old trunk. "Now leave the trunk there; we'll get you a new one."

Hermione looked at him, a question clear in her gaze.

"You'll see. Go wait for me in the car, all of you."

A quick transfiguration of his clothes and a glamour charm on his face and hair later, he walked in to the kitchen. Having said his piece, he left a scared but also happy Petunia and - carefully reversing the glamour and the transfiguration - walked to the car.

* * *

 **12, Grimmauld Place; the next morning**

They'd never seen Dumbledore so serious, and so worried, before. Everyone gathered around him, even the "children". Everyone knew it had to concern Harry anyway, so Molly did not dare to send her children off.

Sirius was looking relaxed, but as the mood changed, he allowed himself to start looking more and more worried.

"Sirius, my boy, I have bad news, I'm afraid", said Dumbledore.

"Is he hurt?" asked Sirius. The tone was very quiet and menacing.

"We don't know. Lucius Malfoy appears to have kidnapped him sometime yesterday before lunch. He even had the guts to tell Petunia to inform Mrs Figg, probably to taunt me."

"And you are finding out **now**?" screamed Sirius at him. "And didn't you have blood wards or something that prevented anyone who intended harm to him from being able to enter his house?"

"Yes. I have no idea how those wards were breached. They're still there, albeit weak. They may have been weakening for some time, and I did not realise it. I find it hard to believe how weak they were when I checked this morning; it's almost as if he was living elsewhere, instead of with his family at his home."

Ron found the courage to say something. "I don't think Harry has ever considered those child-abusers his 'family', or that place his 'home', once he set foot in Hogwarts."

Dumbledore paled, but said nothing.

"How do you know it was Malfoy?" asked Sirius.

"I legilimenced Petunia."

"Look Dumbledore, he must be in Malfoy Manor, and it is quite likely Voldemort is staying there. We need to get my godson out as soon as possible, and for that I need to take up my lordship, and for that, I need to be declared innocent."

"That may be difficult, Sirius. The minist-"

Sirius socked him one on his already broken nose. Curiously, the nose looked better now, but no one felt like saying so - they were too shocked at the sudden attack.

"Stuff it, you old bastard. You have emergency powers that you can use to fix my problem; you just didn't want to use them. Now you will."

"Sirius, those powers cannot be abused, and I can only use them once per seven years. What if I need som-"

"How many times _have you used them_?"

Dumbledore sighed. Clearly he had _never_ used them. Shaking himself from wherever his thoughts had led, he grimaced, then turned to Sirius.

"How will you being Lord Black help retrieve Harry?"

"Harry is my heir. Once I am Lord Black, he will be the Black Heir, and any Lord Black can find his Heir using family magics."

Dumbledore stared at him, as if he could not believe what he was hearing. Eventually he nodded, saying "I will start work on this", before he left.

* * *

It took a surprisingly short time. The emergency powers that the Chief Warlock had, which could be brought to bear only once in seven years, ensured obedience and compliance from all ministry personnel. There were some checks and balances but overall, Dumbledore was able to ride over all of Fudge's objections and get a proper trial for Sirius.

By the next evening, Sirius was officially free, and had taken up his lordship in the Wizengamot.

* * *

 **The next morning...**

Over in Malfoy Manor, Lucius was shaking in his boots. He knew how powerful Black was, and the Malfoys were a subordinate family.

Meanwhile, in a shed in the back garden of 12, Grimmauld Place, hidden behind a copse of trees and bushes and conveniently out of view of the main house, strange things were happening, and even stranger conversations were taking place.

"Ketchup? You need **ketchup**?"

Sirius nodded. Hermione sighed, but ordered Dobby to get some. She then watched as Harry was tied up in magical ropes, his clothes were torn in many places, and he slowly acquired what looked like a terrific black eye. It was vaguely disconcerting - she was sure that, if not for the fact that Harry seemed to be grinning, and Sirius was carefully "applying" another bruise on the other side of his face, she would have gone into attack mode.

She looked out the window on the far side, away from the main residence. "Hey wait, what the heck is a peacock doing here?"

* * *

 **The Minister's Office; the next morning**

"But- but-", sputtered the Minister, "that can't be. Lucius is an upsta-"

"Unspeakable Croaker, can you verify that the memory you just viewed has not been tampered with?" interrupted Sirius.

"Yes, Lord Black. It has not been tampered with, and it is a faithful reproduction of what your godson saw from the moment he woke up after being stunned and captured, up until his subsequent release by yourself."

"Croaker, let's recap, for our dear minister's benefit, since he seems to be shocked out of his wits", smirked Sirius. "What did you see?"

"Mr Potter woke up, and appeared to take stock of his physical state first. After having determined, quietly, that he was not unduly damaged, he started looking around. His looking around at the interior, happily, gave us also a view - it appeared to be a shed on the grounds of a typical large magical household, judging from the implements and instruments. The only thing atypical was a peacock that was visible outside the window."

"A few minutes after he woke up," he continued, "Lucius Malfoy appeared. He was wearing a mask, but at least the long blond hair and the voice were definitely his. He threatened Mr Potter by saying that he should enjoy his last moments of life, since Voldemort would kill him shortly, then left."

"Shortly after that, Lord Black apparated in - there was a huge clap of noise, as if he had broken through some powerful wards - and found Mr Potter. Mr Potter was clearly relieved to see him. Lord Black freed him, lifted him from his chair, and apparated away. The memory ended there."

Fudge appeared to still be in shock. Taking advantage of the silence, and at a whispered "thank you" from Sirius, Croaker left, taking his pensieve with him, leaving only Sirius in Fudge's office.

Fudge was shaking his head. "I cannot believe Lucius would do something like that. He is-"

"Fudge", said Sirius very sweetly, turning to the minister, "we all know you did not have a hand in my original, botched, arrest. Why did you resist all attempts by my godson to tell you what happened?"

"I was not going to take the word of a boy, who was obviously conf-"

"No", interrupted Sirius. "The real reason, and I promise I will not hold it against you. In fact, you will benefit from telling me the truth."

Fudge sighed brokenly. "Lucius assured me you were the worst of the death-eaters, and that you took enormous pleasure in making things even worse for the imperioused ones, especially Lucius himself."

"And did he also pay you something at the same time?"

Fudge appeared to be objecting to this line of questioning, so Sirius sweetened the deal. "Don't forget, Fudge, that I am several times wealthier than Malfoy, since his is a vassal house to mine, and I can - if I choose to - pay much more than he ever did or could."

The greed in Fudge's eyes was unmistakable, but he attempted to retain some shred of dignity. "Lucius was always very generous in sharing his wealth for charities, hospitals, orphanages, and other deserving causes which I have the honour to administer."

"Good; those deserving causes will see even more donations roll in if you stop working with him and work with me instead."

Fudge nodded. He had the air of a man who had escaped a bullet by bending down to pick up something just at the right moment, to find that he had picked up a winning lottery ticket!

"I will be asking you to take certain decisions, pass certain orders, etc. In return, I will be giving you double the amount that Lucius used to. But I do have one condition."

Fudge was gleeful, but became cautious when he heard the last sentence.

"The condition is this: whatever money I give you, cannot be put into your Gringotts account till at least thirty to sixty days have passed since the last time we spoke or you did something for me."

"I don't understand."

"I do not want anyone connecting my bribes to your ministerial actions, by matching up dates. At the same time, keeping a fixed interval, say thirty days, also won't work. It has to vary randomly within a range. But to help you with this, I will supply you a highly secure Black money chest, keyed to your blood, that will be placed in your home. You can place the money in there, and, at a time of my choosing afterward, you can deposit it into your Gringotts account. Any time you deposit money, we cannot meet for at least fifteen days after, so take that into account."

"I may not be able to deposit any money for a long time." If a minister could be said to be whining, Fudge was whining then.

"Hence the safe. You know the goblins don't pay much interest so you're not losing much, if anything, for the protection this gives **both of us**."

"I understand, Lord Black", said Fudge. "What do you wish me to do?"

"Malfoy is clearly trying to have me killed, using you as his weapon, because he thinks if I die, his son will become Lord Black. He must have found out that my godson is my heir, so he tried to kill him also - I am only happy I managed to retrieve him before he could actually do the dirty deed."

"So", he continued, "let us begin _our_ mutually profitable relationship. Have Lucius arrested. Call him here and do it on the quiet; no publicity. Meanwhile, I'll have the special money chest delivered to your home, along with instructions for it to be keyed to you. Along with your first payment. Oh, and make sure you put the chest in a room that you normally do not go into, just to be safe. We don't want any of your guests to accidentally find it if they happen to wander around, do we?"

Fudge nodded. Lucius used to do this with much more finesse but Black was paying double of what Lucius had ever paid, so he would just ignore the blatant words.

"Do you have a group of aurors who are loyal only to you?"

"Yes."

"I'll add twenty percent more to what I am paying you; give it to them in advance each time, and make sure you take an oath on their magic that they won't reveal where that money came from."

* * *

" **I object strenuously to this blatantly illegal incarceration** ", screamed Malfoy, while being manhandled by aurors Dawlish and Murray. His cane had been broken into two as soon as he had walked into what he thought was a private meeting with the minister, and now he had no wand. For a pureblood, not having a wand was pretty much the end in terms of what he could do.

"Well, Lucy, as they say, _into each life some rain must fall_. Today's your day, like I had mine about fourteen years ago." The smirk in the voice, and the regal drawl, left nothing to Malfoy's imagination - his worst fears had come true.

"Lo- Lord Black! As a vassal house, I ask protection and intervention in these unfair proceedings", said Malfoy. The humility was just a teeny weeny bit put on, thought Sirius, but it was very well done nonetheless.

"That would be very confusing to our dear Minister, since it was I who had you brought in." More smirking.

"What do you want with me?"

"Nothing much, I just want answers to a few questions relating to our family. Purely family matters you understand?"

Sirius flicked a finger at the two aurors, who promptly left the room. He then proceeded to turn Malfoy into a ferret and pocketed him.

"Now Fudge, as you can see, he is from a vassal house, so I do have the right to do this without any legal or ministerial oversight. If you're not sure, read up the relevant laws. Now I want three more people who are part of another vassal house: Bellatrix, Rudolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange."

"But they are in Azkaban! Even for family matters, I can't free them, that would get me in big trouble if it came out", whined Fudge.

"I don't care Fudge, that's what I am paying you for. Work it out."

Fudge wouldn't - or couldn't - budge. "Lord Black, it is impossible. Getting them out of Azkaban would be instantly recognised as a breakout. You-"

"There is no need to remind me of my time there. Fine, here's what we will do: have your aurors bring them down to the auror ready room, trussed up like chickens, and I will meet them there. Make me a return portkey to the ready room - I know you have the authority, and come with me."

And so it happened that Fudge was forced to accompany Sirius Black to his one-time prison.

He watched with awe as Lord Black once again imperiously flicked a finger at the guards to make them leave - what he would not give to have that kind of authority over people!

He watched with curiosity as Lord Black enervated each of the Lestranges, one by one, and administered truth serum.

He watched with revulsion as the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, under veritaserum, confessed to all sorts of things.

He watched with fear for his own life as this woman basically said that Lucius was indeed a death eater, that he often had muggle-born prisoners in his dungeons, that he regularly raped and killed people, and oh by the way, the dark mark could not be forced on someone.

And finally, he watched in horror as Lord Black invoked God-alone-knew what family magic and executed all three death eaters without a second thought.

Back in the minister's office, Sirius gave Fudge a baleful stare. "You are lucky that was not a ministry courtroom or Wizengamot session, so that testimony about Malfoy, and about the dark mark, is inadmissible as evidence. But **you** now know the truth. You doubted my word when I said he kidnapped my godson and tortured him, but now you have proof of his evil nature, from his own sister-in-law and fellow death-eater."

Fudge nodded unhappily.

"Come on Fudge, cheer up - you have me on your side now, and clearly I am **not** a death-eater. When _I_ bribe you, your conscience will not have to bear any burden." ( _If you have one in the first place_ , thought Sirius.)

Just before he left the room, he decided it should not just be carrots, a stick must also be shown.

"However, while I am generous to a fault with people who please me, I suggest you do not go against me. Ever. As far as I am concerned, I am paying you for doing your job, because any honest minister would have had Lucius thrown in the veil by now. I **own** you, and I will utterly destroy you if you try to betray me in any fashion. You had better not forget that."

Fudge's greed and cowardice totally overrode any pride he may have had, and kept him silent.

* * *

Back in Grimmauld, a ferret was placed in a rather large cage, and turned back into a human.

"The Dark Lord will have your hide for this, Black", snarled Malfoy, who seemed to have momentarily forgotten whom he was talking to.

"You are in Black Manor, talking to Lord Black. You **will** learn to respect your betters", said Sirius. As he said this, Malfoy found his back being bent backwards, further and further, until his head, now almost upside down was at the same level as his waist. His screams had been silenced, but his back was in a proper U-shape, and the pain was far, far, worse than anything the Dark Lord had ever done to him.

"You were the mastermind behind Fudge's kiss-on-sight order for me, and his vilification of my godson. And now you are hosting that half-blood bastard Voldemort in your home. Nod if you agree."

Malfoy glared at him.

"Well", continued Sirius, "here's what I am going to do to you, Malfoy". "I'm going to keep you alive as long as I need you alive. Once I no longer have a need for you, I'll send your body back to your bitch of a wife. I understand you've raised your son to be just like you - perhaps seeing what happens to you will be a wake-up call for him. See you later, ferret."

He turned him into a ferret again, put him in a cage, locked it, and left.

* * *

Life in Malfoy Manor was turning quite ugly for its residents. Narcissa had no idea where her husband was - he had disappeared over a week ago, having been summoned to a meeting with Minister Fudge. Fudge, when contacted, had said that it was a short meeting and Malfoy had left when they were done, and he had no idea where he went or what happened to him.

Clearly, Lucius was alive, otherwise the goblins would have sent an owl to Draco, informing him of his change in status. And as long as Lucius was alive, no one else could draw more than a few hundred galleons a month from the Malfoy vaults.

The Dark Lord was showing his anger at the situation - he had been expecting Malfoy to bankroll the revival of his movement. As such, crucios flowed freely in Malfoy manor - many of the inner circle were in quasi-residence, and were the preferred victims.

Narcissa, as the hostess, had thus far been spared, but she knew it would not last long. Already, her son had come close to being tortured for an unwise comment spoken just a bit too loudly. She had no illusions that either she or her son were safe here in the long term.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, every Sunday night, like clockwork, a packet of money would arrive at Fudge's house. Along with the money would be two instructions. One, a stern reminder not to go to Gringotts with it yet, since it was still only one week since the last payment, and to put the money in the chest. Two, the next set of death-eaters to be quietly apprehended.

Fudge complied, each and every time. If Black had been doing this the legal way, he would have been very worried, because the remaining death-eaters would have banded together and ousted him, or worse. But as it was, no one knew this was even happening.

(In reality, Voldemort would have ordered his execution, but Fudge did not know that. He still believed that Voldemort had not come back from the dead, and the only questioning he had seen was of the Lestranges, who had not known of the resurrection.)

Voldemort also did not realise what was happening. Belatedly realising that his crucios were not helping, he had stopped. Also, despite his vicious, cruel, nature in handing out punishments, he _did_ acknowledge that no movement can succeed without money - even if you don't pay your followers, you needed to pay several others outside the movement, you needed to pay for potions and equipment. At least until the movement was solidly established and **fear** itself could become the currency.

Thus, until the Malfoy situation was resolved, he could not do much, and so he had disbanded his faithful, and told them to wait for his word. (Privately, he also knew that he was still somewhat weak from the resurrection, and a few weeks without too much exertion would be the best way to ensure he regained his former strength.)

As such, by the time he realised that most of his followers had literally disappeared, it was too late.

* * *

Sirius, with information from Malfoy, had made a list of the death-eaters he would capture and hold (or perhaps eliminate, in many cases). He wisely chose to ignore those who had minor children, since they may contact each other if their parents disappeared. Those four (Parkinson, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle) could be dealt with later; in fact it could be argued that Crabbe and Goyle could even be ignored completely.

Eventually, after nearly two months, one name bubbled up to the top. And that was when Fudge's oath-bound "secret police" were caught.

The name was, of course, Severus Snape. Since he was protected most of the time by Hogwarts, Sirius had to resort to other means.

Sirius had found that Snivellous had a muggle residence in Spinner's End, and that he had wards that would warn him if anything happened to that house. Deciding to use that as a trap, he told Fudge to send his aurors there and to start a fire.

Snape, however, was far too cautious. In the day or two in between the Potter brat's kidnapping and rescue, and Malfoy's subsequent disappearance, he had floo-called Lucius. (One did not casually "visit" a house where the Dark Lord was staying!) Lucius had denied kidnapping Potter, and claimed to not even know that Potter was missing, nor that he was the prime suspect. However, since the Dark Lord was in residence, he could not continue the conversation, and they had left it at that.

A day or so later, Malfoy had disappeared.

A week later, the rat had been found dead in a sewer.

As such, Snape was suspicious that something else was going on. Meetings of the Order of the Phoenix had tailed off due to lack of activity from the Dark Lord - the Order was always a "reactive" group, not a "proactive" group. But the few that happened, he could clearly see that Black was smug. Far more than his public exoneration, or even the death of the rat, could account for.

Anyway, he approached his house very carefully, and had no trouble spotting the two aurors. They were, of course, no match for him, and he soon had them trussed up. Snape decided to take them to the Dark Lord; this was way above his pay grade, so to speak.

* * *

Unfortunately, their oaths to Fudge had been literally what Sirius had suggested to Fudge: they would not reveal that the money came from Fudge. But they revealed - under torture from the Dark Lord - all the death-eaters they had captured and turned over to their master.

And it didn't take a genius to guess who that was; after all they were aurors, and well known to be close to Fudge.

The Dark Lord decided to pay Fudge a visit. At his home.

Sadly, that conversation did not go well for either of them. Fudge at first could not believe this _was_ the Dark Lord, since Black had never corroborated his godson's story. As a result, when the Dark Lord addressed him, Fudge refused to acknowledge that this was indeed the feared "he who must not be named".

Which would have been a very funny sight to behold, if you ignored the resulting blood and gore.

Eventually, Voldemort got everything out of him, especially the fact that several tens of thousands of galleons of Black's money were waiting in the chest in the next room.

* * *

Sirius felt a buzz in his ear, signalling that someone was approaching the chest in Fudge's house. This was unexpected - he had already sent him the money yesterday, and there was no reason for Fudge to approach it now.

Turning into his private study and shutting the door, Sirius activated the listening charm on the monitoring device on his desk.

A squeaky, scared-shitless, voice was saying, "he- he- here- is- the- che- chest, my- my lord!"

"Hmm, so this is where you keep the money Black sent you. Severus, open it", said a high-pitched voice. Almost whining and yet also commanding at the same time.

"Yes my lord" - a voice Sirius clearly recognised.

Sirius activated one of the rune clusters on the device he was listening to.

A few seconds later, there was a gasp (from Fudge, presumably), and the sound of a cruciatus curse, and then of course the screaming.

Voldemort turned to Fudge again, thinking, naturally, that Fudge had squirreled the money away elsewhere.

"N- N- No my lord, this is where I kept it, I swear!" whimpered Fudge.

"I did not realise our minister was so stupid he would accept leprechaun gold as payment", said Voldemort, cursing Fudge again.

Sirius decided to wait for the screaming to stop, and then spoke into the device.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Half-blood son of a squib and a muggle, ultimate proof that love potions should be branded unforgiveables. Let me assure you I gave him real gold, not leprechaun gold!" The slightly tinny voice coming from inside the device was amused, and taunting. You could _hear_ the smirk.

"Black! What magic is this?"

"Fudge didn't tell you? I gave him that chest, and I have a two-way listening charm on it, which I can activate from my study. And the gold? The chest returns all the gold in it to my vaults when I activate a different function, which is what I did as soon as I heard your nasal whine. Oh and Fudge - you'll be happy to hear I started this whole thing with a con: my godson was _not_ kidnapped by Malfoy; I staged all of it to turn you to my side!"

Fudge, barely recovering from the cruciatus, just about managed to register what Sirius said.

Voldemort was so angry, he did not realise the implications of the first part of what Sirius said: the provenance of the chest. He had assumed it belonged to Fudge, and only the stipulation of not using Gringotts came from Black.

"Black, a word to the wise. Run. Run far, and run fast, before I come looking for you. I should have known you were behind all this", said the same high-pitched voice, but in a much more menacing, sibilant, tone.

"Yeah well, I can't help it if none of you morons realised that, as the Lord Black, only I could have captured the head of a vassal house with impunity. And Fudge, I did this to you because you refused to listen to my godson about my innocence, and you attacked my godson in the press after Voldemort's resurrection. No one attacks my godson and lives to tell the tale. And that includes you, Tommy boy, and of course, you, Snivellous. Goodbye, and good riddance to all of you."

Sirius activated the second rune cluster.

A much larger rune cluster on the chest, in Fudge's house, lit up.

Voldemort realised what was happening, but a fraction of a second too late. He tried to apparate out, but the powerful explosion caught him in mid-turn. There was absolutely nothing left of the two men and the not-quite-human that were in the room.

* * *

The round of crucios Voldemort had dished out during the first week or so of Malfoy's disappearance, meant that when he told them to wait for his call, his minions were only too happy to do so, and everyone kept a very low profile, like mice in a house with a new cat. They didn't even squeak, I mean speak, to _each other_. Just in case.

So no one really knew any of this was happening, and in any case there was really only Nott and Parkinson to contend with, the others were all of no account.

It was easy for Sirius to contact those two, as well as Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode, inviting them to his home for "discussions". Once they were all gathered - no one dared to draw a wand against a Lord Black in his own home, any more than they dared to disobey what was essentially an order couched as a request - Sirius told them what he had done, and gave them two choices.

The next day, Draco found he had no more friends in school. Worse, over the next three years he suffered the kind of treatment he had meted out to others earlier. The fact that he was "Lord Malfoy" did not help him at all, especially when it was revealed that his arch enemy, Harry Potter, was Heir Black.

* * *

Dumbledore spent the next several years in a puzzled state. The destruction of Fudge's house - and his presumed death - was attributed to a potions mishap of some kind, with no one questioning the hows and whys of that. The subtle science and exact art of forensics being completely non-existent in the magical world, no one even knew Voldemort and Snape were also dead.

When Snape did not return to the castle for nearly a week (he was last seen in the castle the previous Monday), Dumbledore reluctantly reported him missing. The DMLE, under Bones, told him to stuff it; they would not waste time looking for a death-eater. Dumbledore went in search of Slughorn, failed to find him, and so for the rest of that term, potions was taught by the headmaster himself.

Over the next few years, Dumbledore's advanced age and senility could not cope with the uncertainty of what had happened to Voldemort, and he slowly lapsed into dementia. He eventually died in St Mungos, his reputation intact but for some ridicule at his behaviour during his last years.

As soon as a new minister (Noshir Greengrass, a moderate pureblood, nominated by Lord Black) was elected, Umbridge was recalled to the ministry. Her original plan to send dementors to Potter's muggle house were scuppered when Fudge told her Potter had been kidnapped by Malfoy, then rescued by the new Lord Black, and was now living with his godfather, said Lord Black. Fudge had also told her to steer clear of Potter, not to provoke him, and not to interact with him in any manner except in class. Fudge appeared to be deathly scared of Lord Black, and Umbridge did not have a problem with that. After all, Lord Black came from a long line of _powerful, pureblood_ , wizards and witches.

But she was on such tenterhooks in regards to making sure Potter did not have cause to complain about her to his godfather, that she was actually relieved to be recalled to the ministry. She kept her head down over the next few years, until one day she happened to visit Knockturn for some reason, and got caught in the crossfire of a wand-fight that was completed unrelated to our story.

* * *

The spirit of the dark lord survived the explosion, just as it did in 1981. But this time there was no loyal death eater to search for him and help him resurrect himself. Possession of a _human_ had to be voluntary, and possessing animals was not much use in trying to drum up support for a pureblood cause. The spirit of Voldemort led an extremely boring "life", if you can call it that, until, one day, it suddenly died.

The scar in Harry's head remained as it was. It didn't really trouble him, since Voldemort was not anywhere near, but it didn't disappear either. Dumbledore never took anyone into his confidence, so his research was lost when he died.

When Harry finally passed on, with his beloved wife, children, and several more generations of Potters around, the black substance that left the scar, and the screaming voice and smokey figure that dissipated into thin air, led the brilliant - and still quite beautiful, at the age of 137 - Hermione Potter to finally figure out how Voldemort had survived. Cursing Dumbledore, she initiated a search for the remaining horcruxes. Sadly, she did not live to see them all found, but they were eventually found and destroyed.

Of course, no one was quite sure how many there were, or if they had all been found, so the Potter family, for generations to come, kept a close watch for incipient dark lords, taking aggressive action as soon as any signs appeared.

It was the ultimate irony that one dark lord's ill-informed attempts at immortality led to several future dark lords, over several centuries to follow, being snuffed out while still in the formative stages.


End file.
